


Ghost

by TylertheBoosh



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Gen, Two Shot, ghost!hongjoong, thats it thats all the tags
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-04
Updated: 2019-05-03
Packaged: 2020-02-18 13:15:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18700348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TylertheBoosh/pseuds/TylertheBoosh
Summary: Mingi had never believed in ghosts, then he met Hongjoong





	Ghost

**Author's Note:**

> So this is.. just a thing. I've been working on it for quite some time (along w a lot of other projects n uni work) and this is part one of two. If you've read the under the bed series you'll know I Love supernatural fics so. Hongjoong's a ghost! I also kinda wrote this to celebrate me seeing the boys live on the expedition tour it was.. such a night. anyway. thanks for reading!!

Mingi hates moving house. He hates having to pack all his stuff up into neat little boxes, he hates having to tell his newest friends that he’s leaving and won’t be coming back, and he hates having to try to catch up on his work at the new school. Mingi hates everything about moving house but with his father he does it anyway. At seventeen, he’s not yet old enough to make his own decisions. 

The last house hadn’t been his favourite, and he only has one friend there, so Mingi isn’t too sad to see it go and hopes the new house will be better. He sits next to his dad in the car and busies himself with his phone until he gets bored. He turns the dial of the radio up, then back down when he doesn’t like the song that’s playing. 

“I think you’re going to like this house,” his dad says, as he does every time. 

“What’s special about it?” Mingi asks, always getting different responses as to why he should like the new place. 

“This one is a lot bigger than our last house, you can set up your gaming and music stuff properly.” If his dad wasn’t driving, Mingi knew he’d be rubbing his hands together in excitement. 

“Are we rich now then?” 

Mingi’s dad scoffs, “Brat, no we’re not. It was just a bit cheaper, the landlady said it was haunted.” 

“Haunted?” Mingi says, incredulous. 

“Apparently no one says more than a few months, but I told her that would work for us, eh?” his dad laughs. “She said it’s mainly because of the upstairs, there’s a window we have to keep open.” 

“We… have to keep a window open?” 

Mingi’s dad shrugs, “It even says it in the rent agreement, because freaky shit happens if it’s closed.” 

“Freaky shit like what?” Mingi says, he sits up in his seat. 

“I don’t know, Mings, I’ve not been there, have I?” 

Mingi pouts, slumping back, and doesn’t comment further. The trees whizz by as they drive and Mingi watches them, wondering about who would believe any home was haunted. Churches, maybe, graveyards, probably, but a two-bed family home in the country? Mingi isn’t convinced. 

As they pull into the driveway, Mingi’s dad says “There it is, what do you think?”. 

Mingi looks at the house, “It looks like every other house.” 

“It does, doesn’t it? Ah well. Help me take the boxes in.” 

Mingi begins to unload the boxes into the driveway as his father unlocks and opens the front door. It already looks bigger than their last house, and Mingi feels the familiar nervousness of a new place. He starts bringing the boxes in, his father helping, and places them in the living room. It’s cosy, but big enough for the two of them. 

“Let’s find the bedrooms,” Mingi’s dad says, gesturing for Mingi to follow him up the stairs. “The agent said it was one of the bedrooms we have to keep the window open. There should be a sign somewhere.” He nudges open the first door they come to on the landing.

“Or we could just look for the open window,” Mingi says quietly. 

“Right, found the master bedroom, so this must be yours,” his dad says, pushing open another door on the landing. He goes in and sets down the box he’s carrying, and Mingi does the same. 

“Ooh, think we found it.” His dad goes to the window, where a yellow post it note has been sellotaped to the glass, reading THIS ONE. He takes the note down. 

“Do I really have to keep it open, Dad? All the time? What if a burglar comes in? I’m going to freeze to death before that happens anyway…” Mingi says. 

“Well, you can close it at night. They said not to but it’s winter and I don’t want you getting sick. Try to keep it open as much as you can.”

“I know. I’ll do my best, we don’t want any “freaky shit” happening,” Mingi gives him a half smile. 

His dad winks as he leaves the room for Mingi to get acquainted with the new house. The room isn’t bad, Mingi thinks, a bit boring so far with only a bed, bookcase, drawers, and a desk, but once he’s got everything out it’ll be homier, he hopes. Ripping open the boxes, he starts to pack things away. His action figures go on the bookcase, his clothes in the drawers. 

He’s setting up his Xbox when he feels a breeze across the back of his neck but it isn’t the cold winter breeze from the window. Standing up from his place under the desk, he could almost have sworn it was like someone was blowing on him gently. 

There’s no one around, though, of course there isn’t, and his mind flitters back to what his dad said in the car about the house being haunted. 

Rather than dwell, he sets about sorting his Xbox again. 

Once everything is set up the way Mingi wants it, he’s happy. Or rather, as happy as he can be in a new house. The sun already set and the room had grown dark around Mingi, not that it matters, as his father calls him to dinner and to help put away the rest of their belongings. 

Mingi’s bed in the new house is big and the sheets he’s put on still smell musty like the boxes. After a day of packing, driving, then unpacking he’s just glad to close his eyes. He’s cold, though. Even with the thick winter duvet and his pyjamas he feels himself shivering, trying to warm his feet on his legs. What could be the harm, he thinks, in closing the window? Even if the house was haunted, what’s a ghost going to do about a closed window? 

Mingi pads to the window quietly, removing the wood that’s been wedging it permanently open, and latches it shut. He hops back into bed, as if a monster would grab his ankles, and pulls the duvet to his chin. Warmer now, he’s asleep in seconds. 

Usually, Mingi can’t remember his dreams, or doesn’t dream at all. However, tonight he tosses and turns and he dreams he’s standing on the road outside looking at the house. He sees a young man, maybe his age, maybe older, at his own bedroom window.

The man turns to look at something Mingi can’t see, and when he turns back his large eyes are wide and pleading. His hands scratch at the fastenings on the window, shaking the glass and the house seems to shake too. 

“Please help!” the man cries to Mingi, “Please!” Mingi wants to help, he really does but his feet are stuck in the tarmac as if it had been wet still and dried around him. 

Mingi watches – because it’s the only thing he can do – as the man gets more frantic, more terrified, pulling and pushing at the windows and banging on the glass with his fists. Mingi can almost feel the splinters the man gets as he paws and scratches with his nails at the wooden sill. Only the paint comes away. 

“Please!” the man screams, and Mingi jolts awake. 

Breathing hard, Mingi shuts his eyes tight. It’s morning, yet he can’t shake his nightmare off. He notices the duvet is missing, and opens his eyes. The duvet is nestled against the bookcase across the room, as if someone had balled it up to put down there. He sits up to look at it, then remembers how he’d closed the window before he slept. 

Slowly, he steps towards the window. Mingi runs his fingers across the painted sill and stops. There are grooves in the paint, large areas that were deeper than the rest but only by a fraction so you might miss it. Mingi thinks it’s like the paint there was missing, and instead of pulling off the rest someone just painted over it. He feels the paint for a moment, trying to connect it to his dream. 

Was he some sort of psychic now? Mingi almost laughs because why on earth did he have a dream like that? He must have seen the grooves in the paint before, and was coming up with a story for it, he decides, a story for the window to be open too, that’s all it was. 

As he dresses in the new school uniform his dad gave him, he forgets about the window, and leaves. 

**

Mingi is back before his dad is, like normal. He relaxes in front of the tv. His first day at the new school wasn’t bad, he’d tell his dad when he got home that he made friends, though he didn’t, and say that he wouldn’t mind living here for a while, like he always does. 

Eventually he gets bored flicking through the channels, throwing the remote down and collecting his bag to take with him to his room. He stops in the doorway.

His room is a mess. His drawers are open and the clothes are strewn about as if they’d been thrown, and the figures on his bookshelf are amongst them. The window remains closed. 

Mingi just blinks. Blinks at the mess and feels his heart fall through his chest. Taking a moment, he gathers himself, breathes deep, and begins to tidy. He’s about to put the clothes away when he realises. Going to the window, he opens it again. 

“So do you think the house is haunted?” Mingi asks his dad over dinner, which is just made from old cupboard stuffs they’d brought with them. 

“I… don’t think so. Not yet, anyway,” his dad laughs. “I did hear you last night though, not a comfy bed then?” 

“Just a dream. Did they tell you why they think it’s haunted?” Mingi says, hoping he’s being subtle. 

“Mm, not really. Just things happen that people can’t explain, why? Nothing happened, right?” Mingi’s dad says, concerned.

“No, no,” Mingi smiles, “I’m just curious. Was there any reason for it that they gave? Like any deaths in the house?” 

His dad frowns, thinking. “They didn’t say anything, no, but then I didn’t ask. I’m just sorry it turned out to be your room.” 

Mingi nods and goes back to his food, still thinking about the young man from his nightmare and his things all over the floor. 

He tries not to think about the man that evening as he watches a film with his dad. He tries not to think about him when he’s brushing his teeth and getting into pyjamas. He tries not to think about him as he shuts the window again, shutting out the cold winter air, but fails. 

As he lays in bed, he whispers, “Please don’t give me that nightmare again. I know the window’s closed but it’s cold.” He’s not sure if he’s scared of whatever is in there, but he’ll be damned if he’s getting ill because of it. 

With the anxiety of a looming nightmare, Mingi finds it hard to sleep. There aren’t any curtains on his windows so the streetlamp light streams in gently and illuminates his bedroom in a soft glow. He can make out the outlines of his furniture and the clothes he’s left on the floor when he undressed and the dark shape of his dressing gown hanging on the hook against his door. 

He closes his eyes for a long time, or what feels like a long time, then opens them again not feeling sleep anywhere nearby. He’s not looking at anything in particular but in the corner of his eye, his dressing gown seems to move. 

He watches it intently from the bed and it doesn’t move again. Mingi almost lets out a sigh, deciding that his eyes were playing tricks on him. 

Then he feels the bed dip behind him. It sinks in the corner as if someone is sitting there and he freezes. He feels their eyes on him, hears their breath in the silence. Mingi’s heart stops. 

“Open it in the morning please.” 

Mingi jumps, sitting up and scanning the room but whoever, whatever, it was is gone. He lies back down and closes his eyes tight. 

“I will,” he says to the darkness, “I’ll open it in the morning.” 

In the morning it’s the first thing he does. Mingi is relieved that he hadn’t dreamt and hadn’t heard the voice again. He opens the window and says quietly, “There, happy?” to the empty room.

He takes a moment to look through the window to see where he would have been standing in his dream from the other night. The road is quiet in the winter morning. 

“I’m curious about you,” he says to no one, breath fogging the glass. 

**

The day passes as normal. When he gets home his room is still as tidy as he left it, and a cold draught blows in from the window. Mingi doesn’t want to think about what he heard last night, and writes it off as his imagination anyway. Considering it real leaves his chest feeling heavy. 

He’s too curious about the ghost – can he call it a ghost when he’s not even sure what it is? – and sets himself up with his Xbox. Reclining against the headboard of the bed, Mingi’s eyes flit around the room as he plays, eager to catch anything out of the ordinary. After an hour of not really playing, he gets bored. 

“Are you here?” he asks quietly as he turns the television off. When he turns back around, the soft evening light from the window seems to stop in the corner, a thick darkness taking over as if there’s something in the way. Mingi almost jumps, instead standing still waiting for the shadow to move. 

“I’m here,” the thing says and the darkness shifts. 

Instantly Mingi recognises the voice as the young man from the nightmare the other day. “You’re shorter than I thought you’d be,” Mingi says, surprising himself. “Sorry.” 

The shadow stays silent. 

“What’s your name?” Mingi wracks his brain for what he’s seen on Ghost Adventures, they always ask the ghosts for their names, right? His heart jumps in his throat. 

“Hongjoong,” the thing, Hongjoong, says. 

“Okay. Okay, Hongjoong, I’m Mingi.” He flashes a smile, trying to dispel the anxiety floating in the air. 

“You opened the window,” Hongjoong says. “I thought you wouldn’t.” 

“Why did you think I wouldn’t? You asked me to.”

“The last people didn’t keep it open,” Hongjoong says and Mingi hears the shake in his voice. 

When neither of them speak again, Hongjoong steps forward towards the bed. “Can I sit next to you?” he asks. 

Mingi nods and tries to smile, still not sure what on earth was happening. He doesn’t look directly at Hongjoong until he feels the bed beside him dip, then meets his eyes. Just as Mingi thought, the young man from his nightmare was Hongjoong, and it almost makes him feel relieved that Hongjoong isn’t in as much distress anymore. The shadow around him is lighter. Hongjoong too drinks Mingi in, blinking slowly.

“No one’s spoken to me in a while,” Hongjoong says. 

Mingi looks at the floor, “How long is a while?”. 

“Mm, I’m not sure. A couple families have been and gone. They always shut the window.” 

“And that makes you angry? You messed up my room the other day,” Mingi says softly. 

“I don’t know why. It’s like I can’t control it. It’s… like having a flashback. I get so angry and scared. I need the window open,” Hongjoong explains. 

“You showed me in my dream what happened.” 

Hongjoong nods, “I couldn’t get the window open.” 

“I’m sorry,” Mingi says. “You didn’t deserve to die like that.” 

“I know.” There’s tears in Hongjoong’s eyes. 

“How old are you?” 

“Eighteen, or I was when I died. I would have been a bit older by now I guess,” Hongjoong says, looking around the room like it’s his first time. 

“I’m nearly eighteen.” 

Hongjoong smiles at him then, and Mingi can’t help but smile back. 

“Thanks for talking to me, Mingi.” 

Mingi laughs and his breath gets caught in his throat. Before Hongjoong can see them, he’s wiping away tears with his sleeve. Hongjoong pretends not to notice. 

“Mingi? I’m going to go now, just for now. Can I talk to you again?” Hongjoong says.

Mingi looks at him, “Where are you going? Aren’t you like… tied to this room?”. 

“I am but I leave a lot, I can only be away for so long then I get pulled back here. I’ll come back later.” Hongjoong stands and Mingi notices that the bed really did dip beneath his weight like he was still human. 

“Okay,” Mingi says, because what could he say? “I’ll speak to you later.” By the time Mingi looks up, Hongjoong is gone. He lets out a shaking breath. 

Mingi doesn’t see Hongjoong again that day, or the next. The window is always open even when the wind blows cold. 

**

“You know I think this house might have something wrong with it,” Mingi’s dad says one night. Mingi turns away from the television to look at him.

“Why? You think it’s haunted?” 

“Not haunted, more like cursed.” 

Mingi frowns. “Why cursed?” 

Mingi’s dad shakes his head and seems to be talking more to himself, “Nothing seems to be going well here.” 

“Are we going to have to leave again?” Mingi says, thoughts instantly turning to Hongjoong. 

“Not yet, Mings, I hope not.” 

“I don’t like it, Dad,” Mingi says. 

“I know. I really know, it’s not my fault,” his dad says quietly. 

Mingi wants to explode, instead he takes his anger out by throwing the remote control next to his father and leaving the room. 

Even in his bedroom though the anger, or the anger caused by anxiety he thinks, doesn’t subside and he throws himself down onto the bed. Mingi brings a pillow to his face and presses hard, as if the pressure will make his heart calm down. He feels a hand on his back. 

“Mingi?” 

Uncovering his face, Mingi isn’t sure if he’s surprised or not that it’s Hongjoong calling his name, petting his back in circles. Hongjoong’s eyes are concerned. 

“Are you okay?” 

“Not really,” Mingi replies. 

“Can I lie down next to you?” Hongjoong says. 

Turning over onto his side, Mingi nods. In the bed there’s enough space between them that they feel comfortable, but Mingi is still thankful for the proximity. 

“What’s happened?” Hongjoong says once he’s lying opposite. Mingi takes a moment to look at him, really look at the brown eyes and soft hair and decides that Hongjoong is still a bit shadowy, like there’s a little outline of darkness around him. Then again, darkness had always made him feel safer. 

“My dad and I might be moving again, nothing’s certain yet. I was hoping we’d be here a bit longer though,” Mingi laughs humourlessly. 

“Oh,” Hongjoong says. He pauses, thinking, “What does your dad do? Why do you move around so much?” 

Mingi looks down at the threads of the duvet. “He’s been in some trouble recently. After my mom died, he kind of started gambling and… now we have to move a lot because of loan sharks and bailiffs. They keep finding us. He just works part time wherever we are and it’s never enough to pay them back.” 

“I’m sorry. That must be hard on you.” 

Mingi sobs, wet and wheezing, his fists clutching at the bedsheets. He feels Hongjoong’s hand rubbing gently his shoulder, his hair, his cheek. Breathing hard, Mingi tries to come back, remembering he’s crying in front of someone he barely knows. 

“It’s okay, Mingi, you’re okay,” he hears Hongjoong say. 

“Sorry, Hongjoong. Thank you,” Mingi says through hiccups and wipes his eyes. 

Hongjoong is smiling sadly at him. “No one’s ever said how tough it must have been for you, have they?” 

Mingi shakes his head, huffing a laugh, “It threw me off.” 

“I think you’ve had a weird few days, it was good to let it out,” Hongjoong says. 

Mingi hums. “Why can I feel you? Shouldn’t ghosts be… not solid?” he says, then looks worried, “Sorry I didn’t mean you couldn’t be or… you know what I meant?” 

Hongjoong grins, “I know what you meant, and I’m not sure. Sometimes I can touch stuff, sometimes I can’t. I’m not sure why, but I’m glad I can with you.” 

“Me too.” 

**

In the weeks that follow, Mingi tries to forget about moving. He’s not sure when it’ll happen and takes his mind off it by showing Hongjoong how to play on his Xbox and talking to him through the night. On the occasions Hongjoong isn’t there, Mingi doesn’t ask where he went. 

Only a day before Mingi is told to start packing, Hongjoong asks him a question. 

“Mingi,” he starts. 

“Yes, Hongjoong?” Mingi tears his eyes away from the television. 

“Could I ask you to do something for me?” Mingi sits up to look at him properly. Hongjoong’s hands are fiddling in his lap. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“Can you find my mom and dad for me? I just want to know they’re okay. It’s okay if you don’t want to or-“ 

“I want to, Hongjoongie, all you had to do was ask.”

Hongjoong blinks, “Really? You’ll help me?” 

Mingi nods, “Is that where you go when I don’t see you?” 

Hongjoong smiles the same sad smile, “Yeah, I’ve been trying to so long but I can’t get far enough to find out anything before getting pulled back.” 

“Okay. Tell me about them.” 

Mingi has names, past addresses, descriptions. Some of Hongjoong’s memories had faded over time but he gave Mingi all the information he could on his parents and instantly Mingi gets to work. He checks social media first and vows to ask anyone and everyone where they moved to after the fire. 

Hongjoong hugs him silently.


End file.
